My piece published by Another Chicago Magazine, on the death of my Oma, and how I was unable to attend her funeral due to COVID-19. It’s free to read online, part of a collection of many people’s experiences during these strange times.
Sisters can be scary. Mine is probably scarier than most. She is an accountant. This means she is enraged by things I wouldn’t normally think about. This cartoon is a good example.
4th Floor is live! Check out my tiny stuff and all the other great stories and poems…
When she ordered books she gave one name, when she ordered food she gave another. She gave a different name again when meeting friends, and had another reserved for family. There was one she used only for book clubs, but many for when she went dancing. And one or two, slotted between, which she gave only to police.
She always paid cash; she possessed no credit card.
It was not easy to keep track of so many identities, but she managed. She did not see that she had a choice.
The list grew longer and longer, like a scroll in her head, and on her deathbed there was great confusion as everyone remembered somebody different, somebody more like themselves.
I would like to spend more time studying drunken dialogue but the problem is, in these situations where there is drunken dialogue to be witnessed, I myself am always too drunk to study it soberly and with the necessary detachment.
This idea came from a typo on my grocery list. Then I decided to play with it in different media; an artistic frenzy, if you will.
From left to right, top to bottom: ink, Prismacolor, Staedtler Triplus, watercolour, Photoshop, Staedtler Triplus/Tombow.
When I came home from work one afternoon, I discovered my aunt had turned into a carnivorous plant. Finish the story here.
This piece first appeared at Quart Short Literary Reading Nights in Adelaide, and was also performed at Salon REaD, an emerging literary salon in Brisbane (photos of the latter below).